


Haunted Eyes and Tired Arms

by codefiant



Category: Hyakujuuou GoLion | Beast King GoLion, 宇宙戦艦ヤマト | Space Battleship Yamato | Star Blazers (Anime 1974-2009)
Genre: (kind of), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Tragedy, Apocalypse, Drinking to Cope, Family, Gen, Giant Robots, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Moral Dilemmas, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Passive Suicidality, References to Child Death, Slavery, War, implied alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codefiant/pseuds/codefiant
Summary: Kodai Susumu did not save the Earth however many times just so they could blow themselves up.Except for the part where apparently he did.When the Galra come, his ship doesn’t stand a chance.





	Haunted Eyes and Tired Arms

Kodai Susumu did not save the Earth however many times just so they could blow themselves up.

Except for the part where apparently he did.

When the Galra come, his ship doesn’t stand a chance.

* * *

The brand is a dull ache, leaving him without a single moment to forget. He has fought monsters before, but not like this. He has felt hopeless before, but not like this.

“You’re moving stiffly,” he says to Sanada under his breath.

“I need maintenance,” he responds, just as quietly. “And the last time in the arena, I took a hit and felt something give. But I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

They both glance at Aihara surreptitiously. He is leaning on his pick, his cough rattling, his face flushed. A guard eyes him, but before he decides to do anything Aihara’s fit ends and he finds the strength to lift the pick.

* * *

Rescue comes. In an overcrowded infirmary, the Galman captain does a headcount of the humans and takes names. “We’ve been looking for you,” he tells Susumu. “After no one arrived on Galman-Gamilas, Leader Dessler sent a ship to investigate. He refused to believe you had perished on Earth.”

Susumu does his own headcount. There’s too few of them. They’re the last.

The captain offers Susumu private quarters, but he refuses. He squeezes into the bunkroom with the rest of them, some of them doubling up, some others on the floor. Offers of more space, of enough beds for everyone to have their own, fall on deaf ears. Haunted eyes meet others and tired arms reach out and won’t let go.

And Aihara doesn’t get better. He gets worse, his coughing weaker every day. At first Susumu thinks that it’s the galman medicine, that it doesn’t work on humans.

When he finds out that Aihara hasn’t been taking it, he rages. “How _fucking_ dare you!”

“We’re all dead already,” he responds hoarsely.

“That doesn’t mean we just _give up!_ Since when do we _give up?_ We fight with our last breaths!”

Aihara pushes himself up to sitting. “Whose last breath, Kodai-san? Ours, or Earth’s? Our families’?”

“_My daughter is dead!_” he shouts. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. “She was _four fucking years old_ and she’s _dead_ so you _don’t get to give up! Take the fucking medicine and live!_”

His chest heaves. He realizes that the rest of the survivors are staring at him. He leaves.

Aihara starts taking his medicine after that.

* * *

They arrive on Galman-Gamilas, full of sadness and undirected fury. He doesn’t want to admit that Aihara had a point, but he did. They have nothing left. Nothing to fight for, nothing to live for.

Dessler asks him, “What do you need?” and Susumu realizes that he already knew. That he has always gone down swinging.

“I need a ship,” he says. “And a crew. Even if everyone joins me, and I won’t force them to, they’re still not enough to man a battleship.”

Dessler had declared war on the Galra Empire for him. The least he could do is join the front lines.

* * *

When he announces what he is going to do, there’s no hesitation. Everyone signs on. Maybe they have a collective death wish. That they want to die, side by side, in battle.

But they’ll go down swinging. Humans have never done anything else.

Sanada designs the ship, with help from galman engineers. It’s a mix of two worlds. Enough of a human ship that they don’t forget where they came from, but enough of a galman ship that the memories aren’t a distraction.

When she’s finished, the lot of them stare up at her in drydock. “What should we call her?” Sanada asks. It’s a topic no one had brought up. They can’t just name her whatever. He thinks of another ship, but that name doesn’t feel right. That name belongs to that ship, and that ship alone.

“Okita,” Susumu answers. “The man who gave his last breath for humanity, and the ship that is the last breath of humanity.”

There are murmurs of assent, and a tension he hadn’t realized was there disappears. Everyone was thinking of Yamato, but no one would say it, because everyone knew that it wouldn’t be right.

But Okita. Okita fits.

* * *

The sound of broken glass drifts up to him, another bottle of wine having slipped the ribbon. He pulls it back and pulls another bottle out of the case beside him. It’s half empty. An empty bottle is rolling around on the deck next to him, and a half-drunk one sits next to him. Drunken fingers fumble to tie a knot around the neck of his next attempt.

“What are you doing?” Dessler interrupts him.

“It’s an Earth thing,” he slurs. “Break a bottle of champagne against the hull of a new ship. But there’s no more champagne.”

Dessler sits beside him. He gently takes his hands and guides them through tying the ribbon. “Tell me about champagne.”

“It’s fizzy. And it’s for celebrating. Pop the cork.”

“If you had described champagne to whoever you got this from, they probably could have come up with something similar.”

“’S not a celebration anyway.”

Both of them hold the ribbon as Susumu finally, finally manages to christen his new ship. His last ship. “What would your crew say if they saw you like this?” Dessler asks.

“They don’t care. I deserve it. My daughter’s dead, and I don’t even have any pictures. I can do whatever I want. Not that you know anything about that.”

“I have also lost a daughter.”

Susumu cocks his head, and looks at Dessler in a new light. They are not so different, really. But Dessler found more. Dessler’s people are not over. Humanity grew up on Earth, and died on Earth. “Did I do it?”

“No. You are innocent in this. If you were not, you would have died on my flagship, by my hand.”

Susumu nods. “Okay. Good. Wouldn’t want to… do this to you. Put you through this. You’re a friend. But you weren’t then.” He’s rambling, and drunk. He covers his face. His breath shudders. “I still… I still did this to someone, somewhere, somewhen.”

Dessler gathers him in his arms, pulling him onto his lap. He cries, loud and ugly.

* * *

The _Okita_ joins the fight, but not under Galman colors. She is the last Earth ship, and presents herself accordingly. Susumu is back in the white and red. It is something he had debated with himself at length, whether it was unreasonable, whether it would be better to wear Galman uniforms, whether Earth uniforms would be a problem with his galman crew members. But in the end, he had tried to picture himself wearing a Galman uniform, and the mental image was so alienating it resulted in his immediate decision to refuse to wear it under any circumstances.

After all, it was soldiers wearing that uniform that killed his family. Even if he didn’t feel this way, others would.

Surprisingly, it’s not a problem at all with his new galman crew. He was expecting complaints, mumblings, at least a little bit of insubordination over being transferred to a ship commanded by aliens. But, barring some cultural clashes, they’re all model soldiers.

He assumes that it is because of Galman military culture, and that likely has something to do with it, but he discovers the real reason in the sun deck’s changing room. His chief navigator is putting his uniform in a locker when a pendant slips out of a pocket and skitters across the floor towards Susumu. He picks it up to return it, and pauses. “This is Mother Shalbart,” he says.

The chief navigator nods as he takes it back. “Worship has not been actively suppressed over the past few years, but it is definitely...” He makes a face. “Frowned upon. The _Yamato_ is known as a friend of the faith, so when volunteers were asked for to staff this ship, I signed up.” He shrugs. “The promotion didn’t hurt either.”

Much of this is news to Susumu. He knew that, with the intent of trying to keep discord to a minimum, galmans were asked to volunteer to serve on the _Okita_, but he didn’t know how many were volunteers. And he didn’t know that Dessler wasn’t actively suppressing Mother Shalbart worship anymore either. It was one of the things he didn’t think too hard about, so that he wouldn’t have a moral conflict over whose army he was serving in now. “Did many volunteer for the same reason?”

The chief navigator tilts his head, thinking. “Probably… about two thirds? The other third is mainly adventurous types who wanted to experience something different. The Black Tiger pilots are pretty much entirely bored hotshots.”

Susumu gapes “You mean _all_ of you are volunteers?”

His chief navigator puts his hand on Susumu’s shoulder, face serious. “The _Yamato_ is a legend on Galman, even if you only believe half of what they say about her. Being able to say that we served under Captain Kodai is an honor.”

Susumu feels struck dumb. “I hope I am able to live up to expectations,” he manages.

His chief navigator nods, and says softly, “The Bolar did not brand their slaves, but they were no less cruel a master for it. You lived up to expectations the second this ship was ordered built.”

* * *

The _Okita’s_ initial tour lasts two months. After that they turn back towards Galman-Gamilas, for resupply and shore leave. The galmans look forward to it, though they are wise not to speak of certain subjects around the humans.

But. One can only shove a picture of a smiling blue child into a pocket so fast, and elevator doors are faster.

The orders to divert course and investigate reports of a Galra fleet in their sector are a welcome distraction to Susumu. The reports in question are a motley assortment of interrupted broadcast signals, anomalous meteorological readings, and dubious statements from panicky civilians, but even if it’s just something in the water, so to speak, it still needs to get looked into before it escalates.

Aihara actually drops the headset that he had been readjusting when they find the remains of the Galra fleet. “What the fuck is that?”

‘That’ is a giant metal man floating in space surrounded by the wreckage of Galra ships. It doesn’t seem to have any life in it. Then a light on Aihara’s console starts blinking and he scrabbles for his headset. When he gets it back on he announces, “We’re being hailed.”

“By who?” Aihara just gestures out the window. “Fine. Open a channel.”

“Channel open.”

“This is Captain Kodai of the _GES Okita_ acknowledging your hail, please identify yourself.”

“..._Kogane... __A__h... Cap-..._” As the voice cuts in and out, it grows slightly distant and starts to sound angry. Then it comes back fully. “_Sorry, there was a loose connection, I think I have it fixed. Can you hear me now?_”

“Yes, now please identify yourself.”

“_Kogane Akira, of_ Golion. _Could you repeat your ID please, message was unclear._”

“Captain Kodai, _GES Okita_.”

For a moment, Susumu thinks they’ve lost the connection, but then, “_Kodai... Susumu?_”

All of the humans on the bridge share a panicked look. None of them want to be taunted by a fool’s hope, but they can’t _not_. Susumu swallows before he responds. “Kodai Susumu, formerly of the Earth Defense Force,” he answers slowly.

There’s the muffled, rustling sound of someone covering a microphone, then it clears. “_Former Lieutenant Kogane Akira of the Fuji Space Academy reporting, sir_.”

Susumu collapses into his chair, trying to remember how to breathe. “Lieutenant, how many reporting with you?”

“_Three others, sir. And you?_”

“Twenty-six,” Susumu answers, a laugh bubbling in his throat.

Protocol gets them through the rest of the conversation. _Golion_ is dead in the water from the damage she took fighting the Galra. Kogane passes over the coordinates for their home port, but Galman-Gamilas is closer by far. Tow cables are attached, and Susumu goes down to the hangar to meet the lifeboat.

When they disembark, he sees a familiar chin and a flash of blond and his heart stops. “...Yuki?”

The woman takes off her helmet to reveal a face far too young, and with blue eyes instead of brown. “You seem to have mistaken me for someone else,” she responds. “I am Princess Fala of Altea.”

Today is determined to kill him.

* * *

It is a cold comfort that he is not the only one blindsided by Princess Fala, though Dessler seems to have other reasons. He stops dead upon seeing her. “You found the lost colonists,” he says, then drags a hand down his face. “Of _course_ you found the lost colonists, it’s _you_.”

“I’m not a colonist,” Princess Fala responds. “I’m from Altea.”

Dessler waves her off. “I’ll explain once everything else is taken care of.”

They talk in Dessler’s office. The rest of the _Golion_ pilots try to insist on being there, and the compromise of just Kogane is reached. “Many thousands of years ago, colonists left this planet when it was simply called Galman and went to the Large Magellanic Cloud. You know this, Kodai. There, they found Gamilas and Iscandar. They made friends with Iscandar, and were invited to settle on Gamilas. Iscandar helped to support the colonists until they became self-sufficient enough to no longer need it.

“The reason they chose to settle Gamilas over any number of other planets is because the twin planets of Gamilas and Iscandar strongly resembled this planet and its moon. In gratitude for their help, Gamilas suggested that Iscandar send their own colonists to Galman, so that they could be sister races in both galaxies.”

Susumu frowns. “Starsha was uninhabited.”

Dessler nods. “I searched through Galman records trying to find out what happened to them, but what survived Bolar occupation is… fragmentary. I ordered archaeological surveys of Starsha, and they couldn’t find any evidence of occupation. I came to the conclusion that the colonists never arrived, and sent exploratory ships to try to find out what happened to them.” He makes a face. “And you, Kodai, managed what an entire Galman fleet could not.”

Fala remains quiet through this explanation. Kogane is the one who speaks up. “What makes you so sure that the Princess is a descendant of those colonists?”

Dessler waves his hand at her, gesturing at her face. “The royal family of Iscandar rose to power under a mandate of divine rule. They were hailed as the Golden Queen and viewed as a single soul that was perpetually duplicated and reincarnated in the family line. The science of genetics later gave an explanation. The DNA of the ruling family was _extremely_ dominant. Princess Fala’s people have lived on Altea for so long that they forgot they came from elsewhere, and she _still_ carries the royal face.”

“Oh,” Fala says.

“You’re thinking of relatives you look just like, aren’t you?”

Susumu leaves without saying anything. He’s not sure why.

* * *

Dessler finds him later, but doesn’t say anything. Just keeps him company. “Do you think any members of the royal family ended up on Earth?” Susumu finally asks.

“I know they did,” Dessler answers. Then, after a moment, “I lied.”

Susumu finally looks at him. “About what?”

“Aboard my flagship, when I didn’t kill you. When I told her that I was staying my hand because I could see true love between you.” He tilts his head. “Well. It wasn’t entirely a lie. But it was not the time for the full truth.”

“You didn’t want to kill me because it would hurt a woman you’d never met, just because of what she looked like,” Susumu deduces.

“Mmm.” It’s not an answer.

* * *

The repairs to Golion are finished. (Sanada has declared that he’s in love. Susumu is probably fortunate that his chief engineer hasn’t defected.)

During their entire time on Galman-Gamilas, the guilt coming off of Kurogane Isamu has been palpable. As they say their goodbyes he stands away from the others, then finally as they are running out of time he pulls Susumu aside. “Earth was destroyed,” he informs him.

“I know.”

“I don’t mean it’s uninhabitable, I mean that it has been physically destroyed.”

“I know,” Susumu repeats.

“You’ve been there?”

Susumu shakes his head. “It was past time.” At Kurogane’s baffled look, he explains quietly, “EDF geologists raised the alarm. My ship was on a secret diplomatic mission to Galman-Gamilas to negotiate for Starsha to emigrate wholesale to. The president didn’t want to cause a panic until negotiations were finished and he could offer it as a solution.” He bites his lip. “I don’t know why things… escalated the way they did, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was related.”

“‘Escalated’,” Kurogane scoffs, but his eyes show how he really feels.

Susumu glances at the others. “Don’t tell them unless it comes up, please. They don’t need to know.”

Kurogane nods. “Alright.”

Susumu grips his shoulder. “Whatever you did, it wasn’t your fault.” Kurogane actually smiles at that.

Golion rises into the air with a Galman escort, at Dessler’s insistence. The Galman ambassador doesn’t quite have a blank check, but Susumu knows that Dessler will be generous to Altea.

* * *

Liberating slaves is brutal, emotionally draining work. And more time consuming than one might think. The majority of the time, they can’t just fly in and save the day and then leave. After the fighting is over, then comes the administrative work, the business of figuring out who stays, who gets sent home, who doesn’t have a home to go back to anymore. Arranging transport, issuing temporary IDs as needed, supporting the survivors so that their situation doesn’t go from bad to worse.

Susumu has signed a _lot_ of requisition forms for ground defensive weaponry.

Starsha has become the site of a refugee camp after all, though a rather more diverse one than originally intended. For many of them, the Galra destroyed their home. For others, it is because there is nowhere safer than on Galman-Gamilas’ doorstep. They’ve been through hell, and they’ll do everything in their power to not go back.

As the population increases and life there gains more stability, racial groups start forming of their own accord. A building goes up and is populated by one race, and when a building goes up next to it the same race moves into that one, and others move their tents to surround them. It’s still a melting pot, but a melting pot with a bolar neighborhood, a riki neighborhood, a kaiyo neighborhood.

A human neighborhood.

The first humans Susumu sees on Starsha, he would have assumed that they only looked human, except he knows these humans. Tokugawa has lost weight and Kitano has lost a leg, but it’s still more of the two of them than he ever thought he’d see again.

“What, just because Earth was destroyed doesn’t mean that every human in the galaxy spontaneously combusted,” Kitano explains with a smirk. “It just meant that we were all easy pickings for the damn galra.” He and Tokugawa have developed a morbid sense of humor, and the sort of twisted camaraderie that is inevitable when one person has to cut off another’s leg. Power had been suddenly cut to the factory they were working in, and an electromagnet had dropped a heavy load unexpectedly. Tokugawa had gotten out of the way in time. Kitano hadn’t quite.

Hearing Kitano casually say that he was slated to be put down, like he was some dumb animal, makes Susumu’s blood boil.

The third time Susumu visits the neighborhood, he discovers that someone has painted ‘Starsha Defense Force’ above the front door of the biggest building. He’s still staring at it when a pair of crutches comes up behind him. “SDF doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as EDF,” Kitano says, “But maybe that’s just because I’m not used to it yet.”

“Whose idea was this?”

Kitano manages to shrug. “No one’s in particular. We just didn’t want to keep seeing Galman uniforms every time we turned a corner, so we started taking over. The sign appeared in the middle of the night. No one will own up to it. Personally, I think it was a nonhuman being a smartass.”

“How do they feel about you taking over?”

Kitano shrugs again. “No one’s complained yet that I’ve heard of. We never said they couldn’t join us, it’s just that we’re the ones who aren’t mainly civilians. And anyway, this moon is ours by treaty. For humans to move to because Earth was going to be destroyed. We just took a detour on the way.” Kitano pauses, then asks, “You have Dessler’s ear, right? Do you think you could get us some gear? Guns, cannons, atmospheric fighters? The galman guards won’t give us anything. If someone decided to disturb the peace, we’d be dealing with it with sticks.”

“What’s wrong with sticks?” Susumu asks, wondering if this is going to end badly.

“Sticks break,” Kitano answers with a straight face. “We do want to be self-sufficient, but we also don’t want to have to speedrun all the way from the Stone Age. We aren’t even growing any food here because none of the local plants have been domesticated, we can’t grow any imports because of the risk that they’ll become invasive, and the building priority is apartments for people, not greenhouses to keep imported plants separate.”

Susumu hadn’t realized that under the surface, the situation was that dire. That the settlement on Starsha was a house of cards that would collapse if imports from Galman-Gamilas ever dried up. He promises to talk to Dessler, and he does.

Upon receiving the request, Dessler shakes his head in disbelief and chuckles. “Someday I will stop being surprised by earthers. Today is not that day.” Then he grows serious. “I’ll have some agricultural geneticists sent over to help domesticate the local flora and fauna. And the refugees will all be interviewed on their skills so that it can be determined which industries there is already a skilled workforce for. Little point in wasting time retraining people when they already know a trade. Even if it’s an industry not necessary for survival, the goods can be exported. The process of weaning them off of Galman aid probably should have been started sooner.”

Then he weaves his fingers together and furrows his brow in thought. Eventually, he declares, “They can have sticks that won’t break.”

Susumu wonders if Dessler sees the same potential in arming the populace of Starsha that he does.

* * *

The bulletin from Altea that the Galra Empire has been defeated, and that Daibazaal and his son Sincline are dead, comes with a personal message for Susumu: _Come to Altea ASAP_.

He does not.

First he steers the _Okita_ towards Galra. “Radar, are you picking anything up in Galra airspace?”

“No sir.”

“Aihara?”

“All quiet. I’m not picking up any communications.”

Susumu nods, internal course set. “Power up the wave motion gun.”

“Belay that,” Sanada immediately orders, then stands up to face him. “Kodai. What are you doing?”

“The right thing.”

“No it’s not and you know it.”

“I need to ensure that the galra will never hurt anyone again,” Susumu hisses.

“They’re already defeated,” Sanada responds evenly. “And there might be allies on the ground. This is not the right thing to do.”

Aihara stands and speaks up. “Yes it is.”

“Aihara-”

“_No_, Sanada,” Aihara growls. “They deserve to be destroyed. Every last one of them.”

“Neither of you are thinking clearly. You’re both letting your feelings get the better of you.” Then he says, “Would Akiko want this? Or Yuki?”

Aihara looks a hair’s breadth from sprinting across the bridge and starting a physical fight with Sanada. Susumu tries to keep his voice steady, and doesn’t quite manage. “Why should they get to keep their planet when we couldn’t?”

“The galra didn’t destroy Earth.”

“Well they sure as hell didn’t let us pick up the pieces!” Susumu shouts. “They were like goddamn vultures picking at a corpse! Have you ever thought about how many more of us there would be if not for the galra?”

“Kodai,” Sanada says quietly, “Don’t make me remove you from command. You know I will.”

They lock eyes. “Set course for Altea!” Susumu snarls, turning away. “I’ll be in my quarters!” If Aihara keeps arguing with Sanada, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care.

* * *

Sanada comes to him in his quarters while he’s nursing his hangover. His nose is broken. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was a low blow. But I didn’t want to have to remove you from command.”

“That’s an EDF procedure,” Susumu mumbles. “Under Galman military law, only superiors can do that. It would have been mutiny.” Sanada nods. “The crew is majority galman. Not enough of them would have backed you long enough to get in touch with Dessler. An admiral wouldn’t have wanted to stick their neck out for you. And there’s no guarantee that Dessler would have sided with you.”

The corner of Sanada’s mouth turns up. “Unless I was banking on you knowing all that and deciding not to leave me vulnerable to a Galman court-martial.”

Susumu actually finds himself chuckling at that. “You’re impossible.” After a brief silence, he says, “I’m going to hate you for a while.”

“I know.”

“I’ll probably get over it.”

“That’s good.”

“When will we arrive at Altea?”

“We’re projected to get there around 1600 hours tomorrow. Late morning local time.”

Susumu nods. “Dismissed.”

When Susumu goes to the bridge several hours later, Aihara has a black eye.

* * *

The _Okita_ sets down on Altea ahead of schedule. For all that they are supposedly descendants of Iscandar, for all that Dessler has been favoring them, this is the first time Susumu has been here. He steps onto the gangplank and breathes in fresh air.

He finds himself wondering if he wanted to destroy Galra _because_ they were already defeated. If because without the Galra Empire he will have to think about whether his conscience can keep serving under Dessler, or if he will have to be content planet-bound on Starsha. All his past actions on that scale have been the result of desperation. To do so to a defeated enemy, how he felt in the days and weeks that followed would have helped him make his decision.

He’s been a loose cannon, during this war. Dessler has been understanding when he’s gone off the rails, when he’s refused to follow direct orders. He doesn’t want to discover that that’s changed, that now all he’s left with is enough rope to hang himself with. Sanada’s gamble, that Susumu wouldn’t put him in a court-martialable position, was not so much of a gamble. Galman court-martials aren’t pretty.

But those are thoughts, questions, for tomorrow. Today is for learning why he’s been summoned to Altea. There’s a greeting party waiting at the bottom of the gangplank, Princess Fala and the rest of the Golion pilots, and some others he doesn’t recognize, and-

“Papa!”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic exists because I saw Jiro in green perched somewhere high at the beginning of Yamato II and went, "That's a Chibi", and then saw one of the crewmen getting treated by Sado in New Voyage and went, "That's a Ryou". From there it was a hop and a skip to morph some ideas I have about Iscandar into "all blond space princesses are related".
> 
> Some things that didn't make it in:  
\- Amue or Alor telling Kodai what Amue went through at the hands of Sincline, and that if Yuki really does look like her then he should be glad she's dead.  
\- Ryou survived because he was a member of Kodai's crew, though obviously he was separated from them before they were rescued.  
\- The space goddess who originally split Golion, and then rescued them from the hypergravity asteroid, was Mother Shalbart/Ruda Shalbart.
> 
> Fun facts:  
\- Total nuclear armageddon the likes of which is shown in Golion would _not_ lead to the destruction of the planet itself. Even if humans hadn't nuked themselves into oblivion, Earth still would have been destroyed.  
\- It is entirely possible that Chinese sailors reached the Americas before Columbus et al, but because the Spanish methodically destroyed all records they could get their hands on we have no way of knowing. Obviously this inspires Dessler not being able to find any decent records that weren't destroyed by the Bolar.  
\- It is entirely up to reader interpretation whether Iscandar was truly happy to let the Galmans settle on Gamilas, or whether it's the Galman version of, "And then the Indians taught the pilgrims to grow corn and they had the first Thanksgiving and they all lived happily ever after."
> 
> I'm on Tumblr: codefiant.tumblr.com


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